


penguin

by falqner



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: F/M, It's just....ugh I haven't written for this fandom in FOREVER, Jeez, Mentions of Ash - Freeform, Mentions of Gary - Freeform, Mentions of Johanna, Mentions of Leaf, TW: Suicide Mention, There's so much fluff but there is smth there so PLEASE keep yourself safe!, This is literally all of my aesthetics rolled into one, mentions of May - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 07:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19865812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falqner/pseuds/falqner
Summary: Time is lost. Space is infinite. She stretches her arms and hopes to fly. Maybe he'll come along for the ride.





	penguin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KirishiMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirishiMom/gifts).



> Hello! I haven't created Pokemon in forever. Before or while you read, I highly suggest listening to "Penguin" by Christina Perri! It's a very cute song and was what partially inspired this.  
> To Nadia, my big sis, the sun to everyone's day, I love you so much. You're incredible, and I hope this is good enough for you, because you deserve the entire world.

**_Can you find the time_ **

**_To let your lover love you_ **

**_He only wants to show you_ **

**_The things he wants to learn too_ **

~~~

There's something relaxing about walking along the ocean tides while the sun is setting. Waves lap at her feet and sand sticks in between her toes and under her nails, but it's certainly different from the sharp grass and icy snow she sees back home. Pastel pink colors the muted orange sky in streaks ( _ like paint brushes, Dawn) _ , and it matches the jewel sitting on the ring on her middle finger. 

(It's pink sapphire, because while a regular sapphire would match her hair, a pink one just fits her personality, he told her.)

It shimmers and reflects some orange color back at the water (or so she likes to believe): too soft to be called tangerine and too bright to be classified as muted. It reminds her of the marigolds sitting in her mother's room, pristine petals catching the light and making it their own.

_ ( It's marigold orange, Dawn.) _

It's strange, but she likes to think about colors. Azure skies covered by fluffy, snow white clouds; gold trophies sitting atop her desk a few towns away; pine trees still covered in snow, a contrast between green and white that, on a person, isn't really beautiful. Nature has a way of making everything beautiful, someone told her once before.

(Her favorite color used to be an electric pink, but now she finds that she has a certain fondness for purple. A darker lilac, specifically. She has the faintest idea as to why, but she would never admit it to herself. It's just too embarrassing.)

_ Colors are my home,  _ she thinks as she spreads her arms out and lifts her feet up.  _ I like thinking about colors.  _ Her thoughts are simple and childlike, but Dawn finds that she doesn't need to put a lot of effort when her thoughts come about in spurts, and she's okay with that, because she doesn't need to be this perfect, thoughtful girl that others at school expect her to be.

She scoffs, because she finds her mind trailing back to him. An idiot, but also one of the smartest people she's ever met. He's awkward around other people, but he must've done something right because he has good friends now. He's going to college on a full scholarship, and he likes his coffee black: no sugar, no cream.

At first, his eyes were storm grey, burning with passion. She was mistaken: his eyes are more of a lead grey, heavy and knowing of all the troubles he had to put behind him in the past four years. His hair used to be a saturated purple--back when she didn't know color--but it's more of a soft amethyst to her, muted and quiet, but striking when here. Emptiness settles in her skin when she doesn't find it.

It fits him perfectly.

~~~

**_The hardest parts you'll get through_ **

**_And in the end you'll have your best friend_ **

~~~

She stares at the ring on her left hand--a gift for her 16th birthday--and it's almost uncanny how much this matches her personality. A bubbly girl, hiding heaps of passion and talent, popular among the students. It's pretty and goes along with most of her outfits. (She wears it even when it doesn't match her outfit.)

She giggles at where her mind ends up at. She remembers making him a beanie--lead grey, just like his eyes--and attaching a small gem of hematite to the back because it wouldn't be noticeable there. He had smirked at receiving it, letting out a small chuckle because he's not the type for jewels and sparkles and spotlights. Yet, he's worn it every single day since then.

And  _ God,  _ she loves May Maple to death, would die for her, but she can't say that the girl is her best friend. Because  _ he  _ is the one she goes to pass secrets through lips slathered in cherry-flavored lip gloss.  _ He  _ is the one she went to when her father had to move to Snowpoint City and she couldn't stand to see him gone.  _ He  _ is the one who helped her study habits by experimenting with study techniques.  _ He  _ was the one who comforted Dawn when her Blue Russian cat, Piplup, died. Dawn loves her friends and would absolutely do anything for them, but she thinks that one particular guy happens to have a special place in her heart.

She smiles at the ocean, because she knows that love, whether platonic or romantic, makes you feel funny things. Nowadays, she grins at the stupidest things. According to Serena, her face turns unrecognizably soft and red at any trailing thought  _ ("It's him, right?") _ . She blushes in front of him and stays a little too close to him to be considered friendly, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care. She waits for him after school and walks home with him, babbling on about a new dress or a quiz they took earlier that day.

~~~

**_Love like this may come once_ **

**_Baby it's fate_ **

**_Like a soul mate he's your penguin_ **

**_Baby it's fate_ **

**_Baby it's fate_ **

**_Not luck_ **

~~~

_ "Hey!" She shouts. _

_ "Tch. Maybe I'll just call you Troublesome." _

Their first interaction wasn't endearing; on the contrary, it was hostile when Dawn slipped and ran into him right before their first class on the first day of school.

Her lips turn upward and before she knows it, she finds herself smiling as a breeze passes by. She shivers because she's just wearing a sundress and a scarf, her favorite beanie doing little to nothing to actually protect her ears. Goosebumps trail up her arms.

(He says that he likes it when she lives a little dangerously, when she takes risks her mother would be annoyed at.)

~~~

**_Can you find the time to let your lover hold you_ **

**_He needs somebody to hold to_ **

**_His love is strong and so true_ **

~~~

He's waiting at the dock for her, probably wearing a button up shirt and washed out jeans, ballet flats in size 6 in his hand and grey beanie clashing horribly with his outfit. She picks up her pace, because he's not the most patient person; that title belongs to Leaf. She imagines him tapping his foot against creaking wooden boards, the sound of the waves matching his beat. 

The sun is still setting, orange fading away and mauve taking over. The sand looks like snow, white and pretty and smooth, and when she turns around, she sees her footprints leading up to where she is. She clicks her heels together like Dorothy does in Kansas before continuing onwards.

The sand under her feet reflects the colors of the sky, pale oranges--marigolds-- and purples and pinks blending into a gradient. She wiggles her feet under the sand, not caring about the time passing and the stars slowly coming to life and dotting the world beyond Earth. The dock is in view anyway, and she's almost sure that someone is watching her, waiting.

She imagines his breath ghosting on her lips, the scent of cinnamon from his hoodie, the soft kisses on her neck. She imagines a lopsided beanie, books--her books--held to his chest, shared headphones on the school's rooftop, tiny flower crowns sitting atop their heads; picturesque moments captured in seconds by glossy polaroids and sneaky flashes of light from a phone, tucked away in her back pocket to be stuck into the crevice of her desk later. Fingers, calloused and bruised from years on the guitar, envelop her own. Strong arms encircle her waist as she toys with the longer strands of his hair.

_ "Love is a funny thing, Dawn," her mother tells her, staring wistfully out the window. Dawn doesn't know who she's waiting for, but love must be crazy if even her mother waits. _

She hears him clear his throat; she doesn't even realize that she's made it to the dock until she stands below him. There's a pair of beige ballet flats in his right hand and his black leather jacket in his left--too big for her but he likes how it fits on her anyway. His mouth is a straight line, a neutral expression hiding nothing and everything, and the hue of his grey eyes are impossibly difficult to capture in words.

(The color of lead, pencils digging into crinkled paper meant for secret love notes passed during class.)

~~~

**_His arrows aiming for you_ **

**_And he's the one that you were born to love_ **

~~~

He throws the jacket at her. She catches it in her hands.

He points at her. "If you get sand on that, I WILL kill you." His voice is rough and scratchy, nothing like the honey-sweet voice she expected from anyone else, but she's fond of it, in her own way.

She plasters a smile, coy and knowing. "Oh? And what would my mother say about her only daughter's boyfriend being a secret murderer?"

He rolls his eyes. "Please. We all know she likes me more than you."

She laughs, loud and bold, as if no one would be able to hear her. "If she did, she would've adopted you. You wanna know what I think?"

"No."

"I think she's only keeping you around because Reggie makes amazing cookies. She needs another chef in her life!"

He chuckles breathlessly, as if he can't believe that. "She's got you. What does she need Reggie for?"

She stops for a second and looks at him, and he realizes his mistake. "Fu-"

A Cheshire cat grin slowly takes over her features as she catches on to his mistake and latches on to it, a cat with claws hanging onto string. "Did you just say I was a good chef?"

He's covering his face with his hand and looking away from her as she giggles and covers her mouth. It's funny, because he would never have acted like this with anyone else.

"Ugh," he groans. "Just go soak your feet in the water before I bring you up."

She sticks her tongue out before haughtily claiming, "Oh yeah?! And why should I-"

"I will NOT hear you complain about sand in your 'pretty little flats' the next time you put them on." He pinches the bridge of his nose. She pouts and walks over to the ocean.

She splashes her feet a little and scrunches up her dress in her hand, letting the sand wash away from all the little nooks and crannies of her feet. It's cold, much too cold, but he's right that she would only end up complaining later on.

"Are you done acting like a kid yet?" She looks over her shoulders and furrows her eyebrows. 

"Oh, lighten up! It can be fun! You wouldn't know, mister I'm-all-grown-up, would you?" 

Sighing, he kneels down and extends his hand towards her. She can see the calluses peppering his hands and fingers. "Just get up here."

She nods and stands on her toes before grabbing both of his hands and lifting herself up. He's strong, she notices.

She looks down at her feet, soaking wet. "Paul! How am I gonna dry my feet?!"

He snorts. "How should I know? You're the one who decided to go barefoot." He shuffles his sandals to make a point. She huffs.

"Just...let them air dry. We're not doing anything anyway."

"Fine."

~~~

**_Love like this may come once_ **

**_Baby it's fate_ **

**_Like a soul mate he's your penguin_ **

**_Baby it's fate_ **

**_Baby it's fate_ **

**_Not luck_ **

~~~

She holds his hands that sit loosely on her waist, refusing to whisper sweet nothings into his ear. He's never been naive, after all. At least, not like Ash.

When she inhales, the world seems to exhale. He likes to think so. 

She knows his story, far more tragic and personal, locked away in his mind and key thrown away. 

(There are postcards sitting on his desk with few words from his father, bills clutched in his hand and mouth taut like one of his guitar strings.)

The neighbors, those pesky men and women who have nothing better to do, still gossip about a boy's mother who died eight years ago ( _ you were nine and you don't remember?!) _ , a "mad woman" whose older son found her hanging in her bedroom.

She doesn't care, because he is her friend and he brings joy to her in the form of acoustic guitar melodies and blunt observations. He plays on the varsity baseball team and spends his nights doing homework for all of the advanced classes he takes. (She knows because Gary and Leaf complain about how late he calls them about something.) He ties her hair into sloppy buns and only spends money on his daily black coffee and maybe a gift for a friend. He cares too little and too much, being shoved around by his peers who used to know him in Veilstone. He keeps his cool and puts his hands in his pockets, not caring for the people who never knew him. He is honest to a fault, keeping his walls up and only taking in a select few into his glass dome.

~~~

**_Oh oh_ **

**_Let go_ **

**_Let go of time for you_ **

**_And I_ **

**_Let go_ **

**_Let go of time for you_ **

**_And I_ **

**_Let go_ **

**_Let go of time for you_ **

**_And I_ **

~~~

"Hey, Troublesome?" He mutters into her neck.

"Yeah?"

"....Nevermind," he tightens his grip, "It's nothing."

She smiles faintly, because he has only ever told her once, a sober mistake after she braided flowers into his hair--longer then.

(A lipstick mark tattooed on the cover of his journal; a pink hoodie left on his chair, smelling of strawberries; the scent of green tea and sugar cookies.)

He's gotten accustomed to fiddling with the ends of her hair and running his fingers up and down strands while humming random rock songs she's never heard of. In turn, she runs her fingers up his legs, making swirls and hearts and whatever she dreams of.

(An iron heart, and the skeleton key that broke through, her mother says.)

If anyone told Paul someone would shatter concrete walls with their personality, he would've scoffed and turned away. But…she changes everything.

(His mind travels to stargazing and melting marshmallows; laughter in the dead of night, chocolate smeared on her lips.)

~~~

**_Love like this is all I want_ **

**_Baby we're fate_ **

**_Love like this may come once_ **

**_Baby we're fate_ **

~~~

Love is funny to Dawn. It's crazy and unbearable and all the while exhilarating. It's fireworks and sparklers at one moment, roses and trickling blood the next. She wonders how she could've survived through it.

But, whenever she doubts anything and starts to fall, Paul will be there to catch her, all broad shoulders and grey beanies on top of lilac hair and strong arms and heavy lead eyes impossible to capture with a camera.

She tucks their colors away in her memories, hoping she never forgets.

~~~

**_Like a soul mate you're my penguin_ **

**_Baby we're fate_ **

**_Baby it's fate_ **

**_Not luck._ **

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Now I'm gonna go study dear god help me
> 
> Tumblr | Twitter | [CuriousCat](%E2%80%9Dcuriouscat.me/reonhatoo%E2%80%9D) | Ko-Fi |


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